Oh, It's Love
by kc404duh
Summary: They're back for an "eighth" year and the world seems to finally be falling into place. Harry, however, has a new problem. He may find that Halloween has a knack for changing the course of his life.
1. The First Step

_I thought I'd post one of my H/D stories on here for the fun of it. :)_

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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**~One~  
**_The First Step_

Harry Potter was an unusual boy, not least of all because he'd vanquished an evil Dark wizard a mere five months ago. The details of his private life, however, were no less peculiar, as his friends well knew. One friend in particular, Hermione Granger, had had her suspicions for a few months now that something strange was once again occurring. This was precisely why she smiled knowingly when Harry sat down next to her in the Gryffindor common room in the afternoon on Halloween of their eighth year at Hogwarts, looking deeply confused and disconcerted.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said kindly, setting a book down in her lap and marking the line she'd been reading with a finger.

"Hi, 'Mione," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at her. She looked past Harry to the other side of the common room where Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom sat playing wizard chess. Her new boyfriend, Ron, had chosen to accompany a couple of the other eighth years (Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil) to Hogsmeade. Hermione had been very much enjoying her quiet afternoon, as Harry had chosen to play some Quidditch with Ginny, Michael Corner, Zacharias Smith, and, interestingly, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. The inter-house companionship was a rather fresh development, having been urged and insisted upon more so than ever before since the first day of term. It was only recently that students had been independently seeking one another out, but it secretly put a smile on almost everyone's face to see it happening. Of course, the prospect of Harry and Draco Malfoy playing a relaxed game of Quidditch seemed far from doable yet in Hermione's opinion, but she'd been positively delighted when Harry had informed her that morning of his plans for the afternoon.

"How was Quidditch?" she asked, discreetly checking his exposed skin for any indication of fighting. The only thing visible was a small scratch on his left elbow, which could have easily come from something other than a hex.

"Good . . . Fun," he said, finally looking up at her. "I caught the Snitch."

"Shocking," Hermione teased. Harry's cheeks went lightly pink and Hermione giggled. "Why did you come inside?"

"Hm? Oh, I just got kind of tired . . ." he said, trailing off in the end, seemingly thinking about something. Hermione raised a brow in question.

"I see. And everyone else is still out there?"

"Yeah." Harry was silent for a moment before he sighed and seemed to give up the façade. Hermione was grateful. "Er—Hermione . . . do you think I could talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course, Harry," she said, refraining from making a sarcastic comment regarding the fact that they'd already been speaking for longer. "What's up?"

Harry seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

"It's about Ginny . . ."

Hermione had to bite back her smirk. This was most certainly heading in the right direction.

"Relationship troubles?" If her suspicions were correct, and really, they usually were, Harry's problem extended well beyond "relationship troubles," though that would indeed be an entailment.

"Er—sort of." Hermione removed the book from her lap and brought her legs up to cross them in her seat. Harry watched this rather vacantly. "It's a little bit more . . . complicated, I guess. It's not even all about Ginny." He stopped and seemed to think. "In fact, I think it's more about me." He sighed. "I've been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh? What kind of thinking?"

Harry looked up at her with pain in his eyes and it broke Hermione's heart. It seemed very unfair that Harry, of all people, should have to deal with something such as exploring a new sexual orientation, especially after having already dealt with so much. He deserved normality now. He wanted it _so much_. But she was sure that once he figured it out, he would be the happiest boy alive. He just needed to become comfortable with it and find someone wonderful.

"Um . . . well, it kind of started a few . . ." he broke off, looking unsure of himself, and then squeezed his eyes shut. "Actually, it started around sixth year. I just didn't pay much attention then." Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. _Sixth_ year? She definitely had not noticed anything that far back. "I don't know how to say this," he sighed, lowering his head into his hands. Hermione bit her lip as she watched him. Should she help him out a bit, move it along?

"Well, Harry, you said it had something to do with Ginny. Why don't you start with how it relates to her?"

He looked up, clearly cautious of what he should say.

"I thought I really liked her sixth year," he said. "But it was never . . . enough, I guess. It's hard to explain. After the war I just kind of felt like I was supposed to get back together with her. She likes me a lot and I . . . I love her, I just don't . . . I don't—"

"You don't love her that way," Hermione supplied. Harry nodded sadly. "Okay, so how does that tie into the larger . . . issue?"

"I don't think it's Ginny," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "I think it's more . . . well . . ."

"Girls." Harry's head shot up and he looked at Hermione incredulously. He seemed lost for words. Both _How did you know?_ and _What are you talking about?_ were almost tangibly on the tip of his tongue.

In the end, the former won out, Harry's cheeks becoming rosy with embarrassment.

"How did you know?" he choked out, looking pleadingly at Hermione. "I . . . I don't even know . . . I can't . . . I just don't get what's going on." His face was once more obscured in his hands and Hermione stood up from her seat and went over to Harry, perching on the arm of his chair and laying a comforting hand on his back.

"A few months now," she said.

"Is it obvious?" His voice was muffled by his hands.

"No . . . well, not terribly. I don't think anyone else has noticed, if that's what you mean." Harry raised his head once more but he looked far from mollified. "When did you start realizing it?"

"I started ac_know_ledging it toward the beginning of the school year. About two months ago." He stopped and looked contemplative for a moment. "During the summer, I knew things weren't right with Ginny. When we . . . when we—_you know_—it just wasn't right. Something was missing. And, like I said before, I started thinking about sixth year and . . . I guess I tried to push it away again. Once we came to school I just stopped being able to ignore it."

"Is there . . . anyone in particular that's triggered something?" Hermione asked carefully. Truthfully, she'd not been able to pinpoint anything, or rather, anyone. The only thing that had pointed to Harry's sexual orientation had been a vibe she'd gotten. The way Harry was looking at boys very subtly instead of girls. And something about his personality, as well, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Now, she was _dying_ to know if he already had his eye on someone. When his cheeks flushed again, even darker than before, her heart leapt with joy. "Oh, Harry, who is it?"

Harry looked up into her wide, excited eyes and Hermione could _feel_ his trepidation.

"It's been happening since sixth year, 'Mione," he whispered, refusing to look at her. "_Sixth year_. I just ignored it. It doesn't make any sense. I _hate_ it. I've been trying to convince myself otherwise these past two months, but it's just . . . it doesn't work." He looked up then, an odd mixture of pain and giddiness in his eyes. "When you liked Ron . . . before you were dating . . . did you get that weird, butterfly-feeling when he was around? And, like, if he looked at you, even when you were fighting, your body got all tingly and you felt like you could have just melted then and there?" Hermione smiled, unable to keep the _awww_ off her face. Harry didn't seem to notice. "It's just like suddenly he's the only one I notice in the room. If he's there, I find him. I'm all self-conscious now." Harry raked a stressful hand through his hair. "I really like him, Hermione."

Hermione sucked her lips into her mouth to reduce the enormous smile on her face.

"Harry, that is so wonderful. I'm happy for you! Who is it?"

"You don't understand, Hermione. It's not wonderful. In fact, it's _terrible_."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Hermione went back to her chair and scooted it closer until their knees were nearly touching. "Do you think he's straight? Because you never know, Harry. And even if he is, some people just need a push in the right direction." She said it teasingly, though she was only half kidding.

"That's not it," Harry croaked. Hermione's brows furrowed.

"Well, what is it then?"

"It's _who_ it is."

Hermione thought for a moment, making a mental list of any boy that could possibly have captured Harry's interest and be a _problem_. She could think of absolutely no one that fit into this category.

"I can't imagine who it could be," she said finally, mildly annoyed by this fact.

"You could if you really thought about it," Harry muttered darkly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't see how anyone you have a crush on could be so horrible," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I mean, yeah, if it was _Malfoy_, but I hardly th—" She stopped abruptly at Harry's reaction to this name—or rather, lack of reaction. Harry pierced her with a meaningful stare. "You're not serious." When Harry merely sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest Hermione's eyes rose beneath her bangs and her mouth dropped open. "You're kidding. This is a joke, right?"

"No, I'm not _joking_, Hermione." He looked offended and annoyed at this response. "I told you it was a problem and didn't make sense."

"I . . . I didn't mean . . . it's not . . ." She let out a long breath and stared at her friend incredulously. Harry pushed his palms into his eyes and hunched over with a low moan.

"What do I do, 'Mione?"

Hermione, in fact, had no _idea_ what he was supposed to do. This was not just some arbitrary classmate Harry was talking about, but _Draco Malfoy_. Prissy, snotty, arrogant, Dark Marked, former Death Eater _Malfoy_. How in the world had this happened?

"Harry, I . . ." She sighed. "Harry, look at me." He looked up and Hermione couldn't help pitying him at the look of misery on his face. "I'm not angry and I'm not judging you, and I know you know that." Harry lifted a brow. "I just . . . Help me understand where this came from. You have to appreciate how out of the blue this is."

"I do understand," he said. "It's weird for me, too. He's been my enemy for as long as I've known him. In sixth year I just started . . . noticing him more, I guess. It started because of my suspicions, but then I got carried away. When I'd follow him, it wasn't just to see what he was doing. That's what I told myself, but . . . I knew it was more than that."

"Well, that clears a lot up," Hermione said, smiling lightly. "Ron and I thought you'd gone mental. Even if you _did_ end up being right."

"I know," Harry chuckled, a small smirk playing on his face. "I did, too. I'd always noticed his hair, but suddenly I appreciated how nice it always looked." Hermione suppressed a giant smile. A light blush, however, colored her cheeks. "And then his pointy face became this kind of really attractive face, but I pushed it all aside. It's ironic, isn't it, that the year I started opening myself up to him was the year he really became my enemy? Before it was just childish, but that year we were on two separate sides of a war."

"It's sad," Hermione said quietly. Harry really never got a break, did he? "But the war's over now . . . are you going to, I don't know . . . do something about it?"

"What can I do?" Harry leaned back in the chair and glared at nothing in particular. "It's not like I can just walk up to Malfoy and say, 'Oh, hi, Malfoy. I know we've hated each other for seven years now, and I almost killed you that one time in the bathroom, but I actually really like you, so what do you say we forget anything happened and go shag?'"

Hermione felt the color on her cheeks become much darker.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, "I'm just frustrated."

"You really like him that much, then?"

Harry blew out a long breath and his cheeks puffed out.

"Yeah, I like him that much. If I didn't I wouldn't be so upset!"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I guess I could help you figure something out."

"Like?" Harry looked supremely skeptical.

"I don't know. Talking to him? That would be a good start."

"I already told you, Hermione, I can't just go talk to Malfoy!"

She pursed her lips in thought. Surely there was some way for Harry to start mending the bridge.

An idea struck her then, something so brilliant (and rather excitingly devious) she simply couldn't keep a smirk off her face. Harry noticed and frowned.

"What?" he said cautiously. "What are you thinking about?"

Instead of answering she stood up, grabbing Harry by the hand and hauling him up as well.

"Hey, wait, where are we going?" he yelled, trying to pull out of her grip. Unfortunately for him, their adventure that had taken place in the past year or so had done wonders for her strength, and so she dragged him easily from the common room. "HERMIONE!"

"We're going to the pitch," she said.

"The pitch? Why?"

"Because I feel like I haven't paid Malfoy much attention this year and if I'm going to help you I need to see him." Harry must have bought this because he continued to follow, although he released heavy, dramatic sighs every few minutes. Hermione silently congratulated herself on a lie well done and thanked Merlin for boys' thick-headedness.

When they got to the pitch the others were still flying. Hermione watched as Harry's eyes landed immediately on Malfoy, hovering gracefully beside Zabini as they talked.

"MALFOY!" Hermione called. Harry froze and looked at her in terror. She merely smiled to herself.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, trying desperately to pull out of her grip. She held tight.

"Ask him to Hogsmeade," she whispered. "There's still plenty of time before the dance and the town is gorgeous right now for the holiday."

"Hermione, are you cra—!" He stopped abruptly when Malfoy landed in front of them, shouldering his broom and raising an elegant eyebrow. He swallowed audibly.

"What can I do for you, Granger?" She noticed the way he glanced briefly at Harry, and the way Harry's face went instantly red.

"Harry had a question, didn't you, Harry?"

Harry watched with his mouth hanging open as Hermione walked away to meet Ginny, who'd just landed on the ground as well. When he turned back to Malfoy the boy was looking at him suspiciously.

"As intriguing as the inside of your mouth surely is, Potter—" Harry's mouth promptly closed and his pants immediately began to feel too tight "—I hope you have something more interesting to say than this," Malfoy drawled. Harry swallowed thickly, contemplating either running or Obliviating him and _then_ running. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt much too thick.

_No_, a voice inside his head said. _This is a perfect opportunity to start talking to him. You defeated Voldemort, you can ask Malfoy on a date._

A date. Oh, Merlin. . . .

Malfoy sighed.

"Well, if that's all—"

"No, wait." Harry blushed fiercely but stood his ground. Malfoy looked at him in both shock and confusion. "I . . . I came to ask you if . . . that is, to see if you'd like to come to—er—Hogsmeade with me . . ."

Malfoy stared blankly, as though he hadn't heard right.

"What did you just say?"

Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Will you go to Hogsmeade with me, Malfoy?"

In a moment of rarity Malfoy's jaw actually dropped and he stared at Harry as though seeing him for the first time. Harry felt his stomach plummet and his heart clench and knew it had been a bad idea. So, with as much pride as he could muster, he turned, planning to head back to his dorm and hide in his bed for the rest of the year, or maybe even the rest of his life.

"Potter, wait!" Harry turned at the sound of Malfoy's voice, albeit reluctantly. When Malfoy took a few tentative steps forward, his brows furrowed in contemplation, Harry felt his breathing become shallow. "Are you serious?" Harry merely nodded, having nothing else to do. He couldn't speak. Malfoy bit his lip and Harry thought idly it was probably the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "This isn't a joke? There won't be a team of Gryffindors ready to take the piss as soon as we get there?" He shook his head. After a few agonizing moments, Malfoy took a breath and said, "Yes, I will go to Hogsmeade with you."


	2. Of Secrets Revealed

**~Two~  
**_Of Secrets Revealed_

Harry was in shock as he walked the beautiful, leaf-strewn path to Hogsmeade with Malfoy by his side, an uncomfortable silence between them, but a silence nevertheless. It was better than a fight, he supposed.

Malfoy was wearing an expensive-looking cloak with his hands buried in the pockets, his hair only half-done so a few strands were allowed to blow in the breeze. His cheeks were still pink from flying and from the cold. Harry thought he looked beautiful, and that made him feel queasy.

"Thanks for coming," Harry said, finally giving in to the need to speak.

Malfoy didn't look at him when he said, "I still don't understand why you asked me."

"I just wanted to . . . mend things," he lied. "The war's over, after all." Malfoy only nodded.

The rest of the walk into town was less awkward, yet still silent.

"Do you wanna go to The Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked when it came into sight, looking longingly toward the pub. He could tell from the way Malfoy glanced in that direction that the answer would be no. He hoped it wasn't because the boy didn't want to be seen with him.

"Have you ever been to the park?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

Harry looked at the blond in uncertainty.

"Park? There's a park?" Malfoy smiled a shy, dazzling smile and nodded to the left, down the side street that led to Madam Puddifoot's. Harry tried to hide his blush as they passed the little tea shop. Malfoy led him quite a ways further until they came upon a very small pond surrounded by trees and a few benches. Two ducks sat on the water, floating lazily and occasionally flapping their wings.

The trees were turning red and gold and the ground was sprinkled with leaves and twigs. Harry thought it was the most beautiful place he'd ever been. Like a secret haven, if he were going to be so cliché . But perhaps that was because of his company.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered. Malfoy half-smiled and dropped lightly to the ground where he was standing, crossing his legs and motioning for Harry to do the same. Harry did so, feeling very nervous and simultaneously giddy as he did so. "I wouldn't have thought of you as the type to just . . . sit on the ground." To his surprise, Malfoy laughed aloud, a low, sweet sound that made Harry's stomach churn excitedly.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Potter," he said, looking at Harry with a smirk. It looked the same as his classic smirk, but it was somehow different. Teasing. _Flirty_. Harry swallowed.

"I suppose so," Harry admitted.

"I think there's a lot we don't know about each _other_," Malfoy continued, looking at the water now. "I never bothered when we were younger. Not just because we were always fighting, but I'd learned about you even before school, you know?" Harry nodded dazedly. "After you turned me down, I guess I just kind of wanted to believe everything I'd heard wasn't true; that you weren't a hero, just a spoiled, fame-hungry brat who got lucky."

"We do stupid things when we're kids." Harry was thinking back to that day on the train now, when a bratty, eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy had offered his hand in friendship and Harry had refused. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Do you know what used to really eat at me, though?"

"What?" Harry was staring at the blond now, who was busy picking strands of grass and making a pile.

"It felt like you were the center of my world." A lump rose into Harry's throat. "It was like everything I did, I did to bring you down, to hurt _you_. And it just felt like you didn't give two shits about me. Like I was this annoying, pathetic person in the background of your life."

"Malfoy, you're not p—"

"No, wait," he said, sitting up straighter now and looking Harry in the eye. "I joined the Inquisitorial Squad so that I could bust you. So I could take points from _you_. If anyone else had been the fourth Triwizard Champion I wouldn't have cared in the slightest. It was because _you_ were that champion. It's disgusting, how obsessed I was."

Harry's cheeks were bright red now. He had certainly not expected this.

"I followed you around sixth year," Harry said quietly, feeling it oddly appropriate in the moment.

"What?" Malfoy looked equally amused and uncertain.

"Sixth year. When you were sneaking around the castle all the time. I followed you. I had Dobby and Kreacher tail you, too. I was so sure you were up to something." Malfoy looked away and bit his lip again.

"That's how you found me with . . ."

"No, actually," Harry said. Malfoy looked confused. "That one was an accident." Were they really going to discuss that whole scene? It felt like dangerous water.

But Malfoy continued talking. "I hardly remember anything," he said, releasing a long sigh. "Just seeing you in the mirror, a few hexes, and then waking up in the hospital wing."

Harry's cheeks were hot at the memory of nearly killing this boy he had such an enormous crush on now. He wondered suddenly if Malfoy still had scars . . .

"Did . . . did Snape tell you what—?"

"Not at first," Malfoy said. Harry's brows furrowed. "When we—" he cleared his throat "—when we left Hogwarts the night Dumbledore—er—"

"Died," Harry supplied, taking pity on Malfoy in the moment. His unease was almost tangible.

"Yeah. Well, you tried to use the same spell on him that night and it rang a bell. I couldn't figure it out until a few days later. I asked him and he told me."

"It was terrifying," Harry whispered. "You were covered in blood. I thought I'd killed you."

"Like I said, I hardly remember. Snape said I could have bled to death had he not gotten there in time, but he did, so it doesn't really matter." Harry disagreed a great deal, but he kept that to himself.

"Do you—er—still have . . . you know . . ." He nodded at Malfoy's chest, hoping he would get the point because he really didn't want to say it aloud. He wasn't even sure if it was okay to ask.

"Scars?" Malfoy asked. Harry nodded. "Just one." And then, without warning, Malfoy unbuttoned his cloak and shirt, exposing his entire pale, toned chest to Harry's eyes. It was mouth-wateringly perfect, save for one long, thin, barely-there scar running from a few centimeters above his left nipple to about mid-abdomen. Harry was only able to tear his eyes away when Malfoy closed the shirt and cloak back up. Unfortunately, however, he now had a not-so-little problem in his lower regions. He crossed his legs tighter to hide the evidence. Unlike Malfoy, he was wearing only a sweater and jeans.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

"It was a war. These things happen."

"Yeah," Harry whispered, feeling very far away from reality at that moment.

A long silence ensued, one in which Harry was hyper-aware of Malfoy's presence and the faint smell of cologne issuing from him. It caused Harry to feel terribly aroused yet simultaneously peaceful. An image of Malfoy Manor came unbidden into his mind, triggered by the scent, of the day he, Hermione, and Ron had been captured by Snatchers and nearly handed over to Voldemort. He recalled Malfoy being dragged over to them and forced to stare at Harry's deformed face. Lucius and Bellatrix had been arguing about calling Voldemort, because if they were wrong, if it wasn't really him, they'd be punished. So they'd gotten Draco to tell them.

Malfoy had knelt in front of him, and that was when Harry had smelled his cologne. It had been ever-so-faint, masked by the smell of sweat and fear, yet still there. And they'd stared at each other, Harry's eyes hardly open at all, and he'd silently pleaded with Draco to lie. Because Draco'd known right away, obviously, and when he'd knelt down only a few inches away, green eyes meeting gray, Harry had thought for sure it was over.

They'd stared for several long seconds, everyone around them quiet, Harry begging with his eyes for mercy. And then there had been a change, though he hadn't known how to explain it, where Malfoy suddenly looked terrified yet determined, and his eyes had told Harry clearly, _"I'm not going to give you away."_

And sure enough, a moment later, _"I can't be sure."_ And even when Lucius and Bellatrix had yelled and prodded, when Lucius had grabbed the back of Draco's neck and squeezed, he'd remained verbally unsure as to whether it was Harry Potter.

"Why did you lie for us?" Harry asked finally, a bit surprised at hearing it leave his own mouth.

"What?" Malfoy was looking at him with furrowed brows.

"At the Manor during the war . . . When the Snatchers brought us to your house. They tried to make you—"

"Oh." Malfoy looked away and stared vacantly at the water. Harry waited. "You knew I knew, then?"

"Course I did," Harry said, more than a little surprised at this response. "Forget the fact that I'd known you for nearly seven years; your eyes said everything."

Malfoy laughed darkly.

"I'd have known it was you even if they hadn't said anything. Everything about you is so . . . _you_." Harry clenched his fists, realizing suddenly that they were sweaty despite the cold. "Especially that fuckin' hair," he laughed, bringing a hand up to ruffle the mess on Harry's head. Harry stopped breathing for a moment and his cheeks began to feel hot. Malfoy's mouth set back into a frown quickly enough, however, and he said, "I almost gave you away."

"You what?" Harry abruptly forgot to be shy at this revelation.

"I was so terrified . . . A part of me knew that if I gave you away, my family would be back in the Dark Lord's good graces. But then I thought about him coming to the Manor and killing you. I imagined watching you die in front of me, and it was too much."

"Thank you," Harry choked out.

"Don't thank me," Draco muttered. "I did it as much for me as for you. By that point, I didn't want him to win anymore. I was praying for you to win. In fact, when they first set you down in front of me I nearly lost my mind. I thought about killing you myself. I couldn't believe you'd been careless enough to get caught." Harry felt rather indignant at that, and almost said something, but was cut off when Malfoy continued. "All hope was lost for a second. I remember I almost started crying. When they took you down to the cellar I said I'd never forgive myself if you ended up losing anyway.

"When you Disapparated with Dobby . . . Fucking Christ, I could have fainted with relief." Tears were prickling at Harry's eyes. _Dobby_. Malfoy must have noticed because he swore and said, "I'm sorry, we should talk about something else."

"It's okay," he said, embarrassed at his shaky voice. "It was . . . Dobby died after that." Malfoy's eyes went wide.

"He . . . what?"

"Bellatrix's knife got him. When we appeared at Shell Cottage—that's where he took us—the knife was sticking out of his chest. He died a minute later."

"Dobby . . . the house-elf, Dobby? My old house-elf? He died?" Harry nodded. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah . . . he was . . . he was a good guy."

"I hardly remember. I was so young when we lost him." Harry briefly recalled his second year, when Dobby came to give him a cryptic warning and nearly got him killed several times. "I can't believe you set him free." There was a silence where they stared at each other, both trying to hold in a smile, until it was finally broken when they broke out into peals of laughter.

"Your dad was so mad," Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, that was our _house-elf_. We had to get a new one, you git."

"I had to repay him somehow. He warned me that the Chamber was going to be opened again that year."

"Are you serious?" Malfoy looked flabbergasted.

"Yeah, he came to my aunt and uncle's house over the summer and told me I couldn't go back to Hogwarts because terrible things were going to happen. _He_ was the reason Ron and I drove the car to school. He sealed the bloody entrance to the platform."

"How the hell did he get away with that? House-elves are bound to their masters!"

"Well, he tried to beat himself to death with my lamp, so—"

"That is the funniest thing I think I've ever heard," Malfoy said with a bemused smile.

"That's nice—you'd better never let Hermione hear you say that, or—"

"No, not that he beat himself," Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. "All house-elves punish themselves. That he went out of his way to warn you. If my father only knew. He'd have sacked Dobby before you'd gotten a chance to free him."

"My way was funnier anyway."

"Can't argue with that," Malfoy conceded, an adorable smile on his face. "What a fucking year that was, though, huh? I'll personally never forget Filch's face when he saw Mrs. Norris on the wall."

Harry laughed and nodded. He vividly remembered turning into Crabbe and Goyle with Ron and wondered if Malfoy had ever figured it out. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask.

"Do you remember Christmas that year?"

"Christmas?" Malfoy screwed up his face in thought, trying to remember that specific day. "No, why?"

"You had a conversation with Crabbe and Goyle in the common room about the Chamber of Secrets and then they bolted."

Malfoy looked stunned.

"How the . . ?"

"Ron and I used Polyjuice Potion to turn into them and interrogated you," Harry said, valiantly holding back a bark of laughter. Malfoy continued to stare in bewilderment. "Hermione tried to transform into Millicent, but it ended up being her cat's hair. It was bad."

"Are you fucking kidding?"

"No, she turned into this half-cat thing, it was so—"

"No, not about that, you git. That was honestly you and Weasley?"

"Oh . . . Yeah, it really was." He laughed at Malfoy's expression. "We thought it was you opening the Chamber. 'You'll be next, Mudbloods,' and all that. We had to find out."

"You what? Are you mental? You're the one who speaks to fucking snakes, not me!"

Harry paused for a moment, finding himself sidetracked. Could he still speak Parseltongue? Now that that piece of Voldemort was not still inside of him?

"I wonder if I still can," he thought aloud, looking around the park as though he might see a snake to practice on.

"Don't get off topic. I can't believe you tricked me like that."

Harry winked at him coquettishly and Malfoy sneered. It was so close to the old sneer that Harry was nearly taken aback.

"I'll bet you'd have an answer to a whole bloody list of mysterious goings-on, wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Harry laughed. Malfoy tried to continue sneering, but a small smile finally broke through and he gave up, shaking his head.

"We should probably go," he said suddenly, looking at a watch dangling loosely from his slim wrist. It had diamonds encrusted in the face. Harry rolled his eyes. How very _Malfoy_. He stood up then and offered Harry a hand, which Harry took, though he couldn't help blushing lightly.

"What time is it?" Harry asked as they passed Madam Puddifoot's and turned onto the main street.

"Almost half-five. The dance starts soon."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Halloween!"

Malfoy laughed at Harry's outburst and Harry blushed fiercely. They walked in companionable silence along the path back to Hogwarts, ignoring anyone who stared. Most people were already back, but there were the few third years who'd waited till the very last second to leave.

_Even they know about me and Malfoy_, Harry thought sadly. Although, it wasn't like it was a secret. Malfoy was an outed former Death Eater and Harry was . . . Well, he was Harry Potter. _Still_, he thought, _it's not like anyone at this school doesn't know how much we hated each other._ It was a sign of the new inter-House unity, though, that no one made any comments. Harry found himself wondering how Ron would take it. He still didn't know that they'd played Quidditch together that morning.

They walked together to the entrance hall and stopped before parting ways.

"Thanks for coming," Harry said again, purposefully looking at the ground. He heard Malfoy chuckle.

"You already said that."

"I know, but I really do mean it." He looked up. "I'll see you at the dance, I guess?" Malfoy smiled and nodded before descending the stairs to the dungeon.

Instead of the simple Halloween feast, the teachers had decided to throw a Halloween dance this year. It was not a secret that this was due mostly to the fact that it was seventeen years to the day that Voldemort had first attempted and failed to kill Harry.

McGonagall had asked Harry into her office weeks ago and told him, tears sparkling in eyes, that she remembered meeting Dumbledore the day after in front of the Dursleys' house. She'd told him how proud she was and—Harry had nearly fainted from shock—hugged him so tightly he'd not been able to breathe properly. And then she'd informed him that they were to have a Halloween ball and asked his permission to honor him.

He'd politely declined.

Still, they were having the dance, and Harry certainly didn't mind as long as no one fussed over him.

When he made it to the common room he saw that almost everyone was already dressed in nice robes. He spotted his two best friends in the crowd and smiled when he noticed Hermione fussing over Ron.

"I still prefer those robes you wore fourth year," Harry said as he approached them. Ron glared while Hermione laughed and spun around to hug him.

"Where have you been?" Ron asked. Harry caught Hermione's eye quickly.

"He was playing Quidditch."

"With Ginny and them?" Ron nodded toward Ginny, who had not yet noticed Harry's presence. "They came in a while ago, though."

"I stayed out a bit longer," Harry said. Ron still looked confused, but Harry was thankfully saved by Ginny, who had skipped over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You'd better get dressed," she said, eyeing his clothes. "Or are you above that?" Harry glared at her and she giggled. "Kidding, kidding! But really, go get dressed, mister hero. I will not attend a dance with a sloppy savior for a date."

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Harry's arm and steering him toward the stairs. When they were safely out of earshot Hermione went in for the kill. "So, what happened?" she asked, closing the dormitory door behind her.

"Not much," he said, his cheeks red. She raised a brow. "We went to some random park I didn't know existed and talked. It was fun."

"What did you talk about?" she pressed.

"Not that," he said with a smile. She huffed.

"Well then what?"

"I dunno . . . the past. The war. It was actually very—erm—intimate, I guess. It felt personal. There were a few times I thought he knew."

"Oh, Harry, that's wonderful! When are you getting together again?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well, we'll discuss that later. Let's get you dressed for now."

"Hermione?" he said carefully as she pulled out some of his dress robes.

"Hm?"

"What about . . . what about Ginny?"

Hermione stopped and stared at him.

"Um . . . don't worry about that."

He looked at her strangely as she helped him slip his arms into the robes.

"How am I supposed to not worry about it? She's my girlfriend, in case you forgot."

"I didn't forget," she snapped. He looked startled and she sighed. "Look, it's not my place to say anything, and I told her I wouldn't, but . . . Harry, she _knows_ you don't like her anymore."

". . . What?"

"She _knows_. Oh, Harry, she's known for a long time. She said the same thing you did. When you had sex it wasn't right. Of course, she thought so for different reasons, but the essentials are the same. She just didn't feel the same chemistry that there used to be. She could tell something was wrong. She doesn't know your . . . your preferences, of course, but, well . . . she knows you don't like her that way."

It was a horrible thing to find out at the same time that it as an enormous relief. He suddenly felt more grateful for Ginny than he ever had before. What other girl would have taken the situation so well?

"So why hasn't she said anything? Does she know there's—er—someone else, in a sense?"

"She's guessed as much." Harry nodded. "She's not mad."

"So should I break things off, then?"

"Eventually, yes. Whenever you're ready. She's not going to say anything or rush you. Though I don't think it would be very fair to keep her waiting long. She's going to start looking at other boys again, but she can't really do that until she's 'free,' so to speak. Unless she wants it to look like she's cheating on Harry Potter, which would do nothing for her image."

"Right," Harry laughed. "Maybe I will tonight. After the dance."

"I think that's a good idea."


	3. The Path To Recovery

_That took about a thousand years and I blame it all on the Error Type 2. But here it is at last. ;)_

**~Three~**  
_The Path to Recovery_

Harry stood near one of the many tables littered about the perimeter of the Great Hall, watching Ron and Hermione dance. He couldn't help smiling at the pair, remembering so vividly the development of their relationship over the years.

He'd danced already with Parvati, for old time's sake, as well as several other hopeful girls and a few from his year just for the fun of it. He'd had a surprisingly good time with Lavender Brown, who had teasingly bumped into Ron and Hermione a fair few times before winking and waltzing away again with Harry.

"Where's your necklace, Won Won?" she'd asked loudly one time, and Hermione had collapsed into a fit of giggles.

Harry was broken from his thoughts when he felt a presence behind him. He'd been about to turn around when he felt warm breath on his ear.

"Dance with me?"

_Malfoy._

Harry bit his lip and tried to hide his blush. It didn't work, of course, and a moment later Malfoy came around to face him. He held out a hand and Harry took it without a word, allowing the blond to lead him onto the dance floor as a slow song started.

Harry's breathing was shallow and heavy as Malfoy placed his hands on Harry's hips and pulled him close. Harry wrapped his own hands around Malfoy's neck boldly, loving the warmth of his skin.

"Tell me, Potter," he said, staring directly into Harry's eyes as they moved rhythmically to the music, "why did you _really_ ask me to Hogsmeade today?"

Harry swallowed thickly. Surely he didn't know!

But he simply couldn't be sure when Malfoy leaned forward, his mouth hovering next to Harry's ear.

"I told you," Harry croaked. "I just w-wanted to try and mend things."

"What kind of mending are we talking about?" Malfoy whispered, and as hard as Harry tried, he couldn't contain the gasp that leapt from his mouth. "Mm, I see." The shock of feeling Malfoy's lips on his neck was comparable to the astonishment he'd felt when he'd found out he'd traveled back in time. It was just impossible.

But when he felt another gentle kiss a bit higher up he forgot to be surprised and merely groaned his appreciation.

"You don't mind missing the rest of this dance, do you?" Malfoy whispered. Harry could only shake his head. "Lovely." Malfoy took his hand then and led him from the Great Hall, down the stairs leading to the dungeons, and through the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories. He was pulled past the common room, down a hallway, and through a door labeled "eighth years."

Malfoy closed the door and aimed his wand at it, muttered a spell Harry didn't recognize, and then pushed Harry rather forcefully against the wall. Harry stared at him with wide, lustful eyes.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy whispered dangerously close to his face.

". . . What are you offering?"

Harry felt Malfoy's nails digging into his arms through the fabric of his robes. He licked his lips and glanced down at Harry's briefly. Harry stifled a whimper.

"More than just this," he said finally. Harry remained silent, unsure of what to say. How much more was "more"? "I need to know what you want."

In all honesty, it was getting hard to think straight with Malfoy this close to him, breathing heavily, his obvious arousal digging into Harry's thigh. He knew he wanted more than just sex, although that sounded brilliant right now.

"You're seeing Weasley's sister—" Harry effectively cut him off with a shake of the head. "What?"

"Not anymore," Harry said, almost literally unable to string together a full sentence. _Technically_ they weren't. At least, they were supposed to be breaking it off tonight. If he was lucky, it might be tomorrow.

"Why?" Malfoy asked, making a move to step backwards. Harry instinctively reached out and grabbed Malfoy's hips. Malfoy looked into his eyes and a knowing smirk lit up his face. He leaned forwards then, stopping when their lips were only a millimeter apart. Harry could have screamed. "I just need to know this isn't only about sex." Harry could only shake his head. That appeared to be enough for Malfoy, however, because a moment later his lips were covered by another pair, soft and warm and so wonderfully, entirely Malfoy.

Harry felt a low moan rumble in the back of his throat and he opened his mouth to let it out. Malfoy took advantage by tentatively licking Harry's bottom lip. Harry quickly dove in again, shoving his own tongue unceremoniously into the warm, waiting mouth.

He ran his tongue over Malfoy's teeth and across his palette, tasting and exploring every unfamiliar crevice. He wasn't typically so aggressive, but he couldn't seem to get enough. Malfoy was making keening, needy sounds that drove Harry up the wall. It was wet, but unlike with Cho, it was wet because Malfoy was sucking on his lips and biting his skin and simply pouring eight years of emotion into one long, brutal, arousing kiss.

He broke away all too soon, but before Harry could protest, Malfoy was dragging him over to a bed and pulling the curtains around them. He laid Harry down and straddled his waist, then leaned over to begin licking and biting his neck. Harry realized vaguely that Malfoy was giving him a hickey, but he couldn't be bothered to care. In fact, it made him feel hotter than he had before. He concentrated on the feel of Malfoy's mouth and teeth and saliva on his skin. But soon it all blended together, because hands were opening Harry's dress robes and exposing his chest, and then that same mouth that had abused his neck was attacking his collarbone. And all Harry could do was alternately grip and pet the blond hair before him as the biting kisses moved farther down. Malfoy laved his nipples and sucked at the skin on and around his ribs. He kissed and licked Harry's sides, all around his stomach, and dipped his tongue crudely into Harry's belly button. He nuzzled the trail of hair leading below the waistline of Harry's trousers, causing Harry to squirm and involuntarily arch into the touch. He was almost literally worshipping Harry's body, and contrary to what he would have expected had he imagined someone doing something like that to him, he felt simply _high_ on the feeling.

"Please," he whimpered. It must have sounded pathetic, but he just didn't care. He needed that mouth—_Malfoy_'s mouth—lower.

And finally—_finally_—Malfoy gripped his trousers and pulled them slowly down his legs and off his feet. Harry looked down and saw the tent in his boxers, the small wet patch at the top, and the hungry way in which Malfoy was staring. He was not permitted to watch much longer, however, because his head tipped back in ecstasy when Malfoy placed his mouth over the head of Harry's cloth-covered cock.

"Oh, fuck!" Harry shouted.

"Such foul language from the savior of the world," Malfoy whispered. Harry could only buck helplessly, and was rewarded when Malfoy pressed the flat of his tongue over the wet spot on the fabric. He teased this way for only a few more seconds before carefully lifting the boxers over Harry's weeping length and directly licking the head.

"Malfoy," Harry groaned, gripping the blond hair tightly.

"Draco." Malfoy removed his mouth and looked up at Harry suddenly. "It's Draco." Harry stared back at him, astonished, yet incredibly turned on. _Draco_. It felt so intimate. So appropriate. For this was not Malfoy. This was someone entirely new.

"Please, Draco," he whispered finally. He heard the other boy swallow nervously before the whole head of his cock was engulfed in heat. He cried out, unable to stop himself, and tried thrusting his hips, but found that was impossible due to the surprisingly strong hands gripping his hips tightly. Draco's tongue swirled languidly around the head, dipped into the slit, and finally trailed down the underside of Harry's cock. He continued this teasing for quite some time, driving Harry quickly toward bliss. When he finally took several inches into his mouth, Harry couldn't help crying out his pleasure. Draco began bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks, sucking Harry's cock like he was being paid to do it.

It was just as Harry was about to explode that he pulled away.

"The fuck!" Harry shouted hoarsely. But Draco didn't answer. He was too busy removing his own robes and pulling his own hard cock out of his boxers, the head an angry red and dripping pre-come. Harry fell silent. He watched in fascination as Draco spread Harry's legs and moved closer, aligned their cocks, and finally wrapped a hand around both.

Harry fell back onto his pillow with a low, guttural moan.

"You're beautiful, Potter," Draco whispered, stroking them slowly, teasingly.

"H-Harry," Harry bit out. Draco chuckled and leaned close, his breath wafting across Harry's face.

"Harry," he said, and Harry felt his body shudder. "Does that feel good?"

"_Yes_," he hissed. He heard Draco gasp and the hand gripping their cocks tightened very abruptly.

"Do that again," Draco whined. Harry could not for the life of him figure out what the hell he'd done. All he knew was that if Draco's hand did not start moving again soon, he'd have to take drastic measures.

"W-what?" he gasped, opening his eyes with difficulty.

"Parseltongue," Draco said, squeezing their cocks again, causing a very arousing, squishy sound. "You spoke Parseltongue. Fucking do it again."

He'd spoken Parseltongue? Well, that answered his question. He didn't know how he could do it again, though, if he hadn't meant to.

But when Draco's hand once again sped up, he found himself hissing a string of encouragements and pleas for more, harder, faster. Draco was furiously thrusting against Harry's cock as Harry hissed his pleasure, and soon the orgasm that had been building up since they'd first entered the room was bursting out of him. It was like an explosion. His whole world went white for a few moments and he couldn't think, only feel, and it was better than anything he'd ever experienced in his life.

Draco came only seconds later, his come mixing with Harry's on Harry's stomach.

And then Draco fell forward, breathing heavily, eyes closed. He was hyper-aware of a sweaty Draco Malfoy draped across his body, lying in a mess of both their come. He was both disturbed, and yet entirely unsurprised, to find that he liked the feeling.

They were silent for what felt like an eternity, but what was probably only a few minutes. Harry thought he should probably say something, but he wasn't sure what. What did you say in this situation that didn't sound stupid?

Draco's voice penetrated the silence.

"I should get you back to your dorm," he breathed. Harry's heart clenched. How anticlimactic.

"Yeah," he said, despite the empty feeling it left in his chest. Draco sat up and extended a hand to Harry, whom he pulled up and into a slow kiss.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, pulling away only an inch. Draco sighed and looked down at the watch he'd not taken off.

"Almost nine."

"Right."

Draco made to open the curtains and only stopped when Harry shrieked.

"What if someone's there?"

"I charmed the door so the handle would be hot." Harry raised a brow. Draco chuckled. "We all agreed on that in our second year. If someone was up to something in here, they'd charm the handle, and we'd all know not to go inside." Harry wondered vaguely why _his_ dorm mates hadn't been that clever.

Draco laughed at his expression. He then helped Harry out of bed and they both cleaned up and dressed quietly. They shared another—rather long—kiss before exiting the Slytherin dorms together and walking back up to the entrance hall. A few people were gathered there, others just leaving the dance, while some were heading upstairs. From the sound of it, however, most were still inside the Great Hall.

"Can I walk you to your dorm?" Draco asked, the faintest of blushes coloring his pale cheeks. Harry smiled and nodded, secretly ecstatic that their night had not yet ended.

They walked silently up seven floors, Draco grabbing Harry's hand and intertwining their fingers on the third-floor landing.

They stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady and Draco turned to Harry first, reaching for his other hand and linking those fingers as well.

"I know this is very—soon would be an understatement," he chuckled. Harry blushed and his stomach began churning. What was soon? "This is very _abrupt_."

Harry merely nodded.

"We've only just begun speaking to each other as civilized human beings."

Harry bit his lip.

"So at the risk of sounding like a complete prat . . ." Harry unconsciously held his breath this time. Draco then looked into his eyes and said, "Would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?" Harry simply couldn't help grinning like an idiot. Draco appeared to take this as a yes, because he too smiled and then leaned in to kiss Harry lightly. When he pulled away Harry found he was still smiling. "We've a lot to talk about and learn and understand, and some of it will be hard, and I know there will be people who won't understand, but—"

Harry cut him off with another kiss.

"Do you like me?" Draco nodded vigorously. "Then that's all that matters right now." And with a last kiss on the cheek and a whispered "See you tomorrow," Harry climbed inside the Gryffindor common room with a euphoric smile and a feeling that, for the first time since the end of the war, he might be on the path to recovery.


End file.
